


A Debt

by SpaceWall



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brothers, Comedy, F/M, Gen, One Shot, West Wing AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 07:58:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13566240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceWall/pseuds/SpaceWall
Summary: You'd think that the Vice President of the United States would be able to get out of unwanted family dinners. But maybe he doesn't actually want to.In which Tyrion is Daenarys's VP, Theon is his unfortunate secretary, Jaime is a general, and Joffery is still dead because I hate him.





	A Debt

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, it's still not more Dawn-verse stories. Stop looking at me like that. I like writing a modern-ish thing about brothers for once (this is the second time) as opposed to my usual high fantasy thing about brothers or last week's space opera thing about brothers. 
> 
> Possibly I have a thematic thread in all of this.

“Mr. Vice President, General Lannister is on the line for you?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes at his assistant, a young man named Greyjoy. “He hasn’t been a general for a decade, Theon. I think you can just call him Mr. Lannister. Or ‘your father, Mr. Vice President’, or Tywin, or-”

“Your brother, Mr. Vice President.” Greyjoy cut him off, with a grimace. It was rare to get any attitude out of the boy, though he clearly had one. Tyrion knew because he’d met Admiral Greyjoy, who was nothing but attitude. Siblings could be different, but not that different. 

“I’ll take it in my office, Greyjoy,” Tyrion told him. Greyjoy mumbled what sounded like his own first name under his breath, but didn’t give Tyrion any more glimpses into his psyche. 

Tyrion ducked back into his office, and picked up the phone. For a long second, he considered not even speaking to Jaime. It wasn’t like Jaime deserved the effort. He had taken Cersei’s side, after all, for decades, and, most recently, he had taken her side in blaming Tyrion for Joffery’s death. Jaime had stopped Cersei from taking the matter to court, but it had hardly been a winning show of support. 

“Tyrion?” Jaime asked, the second the call connected. 

“No, I’m afraid you’ve got the other Vice President Lannister.” 

“Tyrion,” Jaime repeated, and Tyrion could hear him rolling his eyes. Perhaps it was best to cut right to the chase. 

“What do you want, Jaime?”

Jaime kept his voice level, but Tyrion could tell it was an effort. “Dinner, with you. Tonight if you can, next week if you can’t.”

As a matter of a fact, Tyrion could, tonight; Daenarys had told him to take a break, but he wasn’t going to let Jaime get off that easy. “I could probably make room, depending on the reason behind the dinner.”

“Tyrion,” Jaime said, rolling his eyes once more. Then, something must have changed, in his life or in his mind, because he added, “this is important to me, Tyrion. If you don’t have time, that’s alright, but when you do, I really need to be able to sit down and talk to you. In person.” This last was tagged on as a caveat, probably because he could tell that Tyrion was going to snark him over the fact that they were already talking. 

“How important?” Tyrion asked. He already had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him it was bad. Jaime never called Tyrion for help. Ever. 

“Remember when you were sixteen, and you told me that you were going to marry that girl in your chemistry class and made me swear on pain of death not to tell dad, and then you said you’d pay me back some day for keeping your secret?”

“Yes?” Tyrion didn’t remember the exact incident, but it had probably happened. That sounded like something he would do.

“I’m cashing in that promise. And every other debt you’ve ever jokingly promised to owe me.”

That was a not-insignificant number of joking debts. And, if Tyrion was being honest, a not-insignificant number of actual debts too. “That big, huh?”

There was a pause on the other side of the line, and then Jaime’s voice, harsh, “bigger. But I’m hoping you’ll give me the big-brother discount.”

Tyrion couldn’t help the smile that danced across his face. He was suddenly very glad this wasn’t a video chat. It wouldn’t do to let Jaime see that he was winning. “Do you have anywhere in mind, for dinner? Even if I’m giving you the big brother discount, I fully expect you to pay.”

Jaime did in fact have somewhere in mind. And a reservation at that. Thus, Tyrion had no exit but to meet Jaime at Dragonpit, his restaurant of choice, fifteen minutes before the scheduled time. Jaime was early, too, and they were forced to share their awkward silence, waiting for the table to be prepared. Jaime was wearing a suit, which was always a surprise on the rare occasions when it happened, and more surprising in this case because Cersei was nowhere in the vicinity to have forced him into it. 

“So, what do you need from me?” Tyrion asked, through his menu. He didn’t give Jaime the courtesy of meeting his eyes. 

Jaime was silent for so long that Tyrion put down his menu to check that he hadn’t gotten up and left without Tyrion noticing. He hadn’t. Jaime was just sitting there, stone-like, saying nothing. 

“Earth to Jaime, Jaime, do you copy?”

Jaime shook his head like he was trying to get water out of his ears. “I’m sorry, Tyrion. I just-”

Tyrion cut him off. “What’s Cersei done now, Jaime?”

Jaime blinked at him. Tyrion realized he was wearing glasses, and wondered when that had happened. He seemed older than he had the last time they had spoken, but it suited him well. Their father had aged into his sense of gravitas, and Tyrion wondered if Jaime was doing the same, finally maturing at this late stage.

“She hasn’t done anything, Tyrion. I wish you would stop thinking the worst of her.”

Apparently, not matured yet. “She accused me of murder. I think if either of us is irrationally thinking the worst of the other, it’s not me. Though I suppose you wouldn’t know, having spent no time at all with me in the past two years.”

“Tyrion.”

Tyrion snapped. “You could die, and I don’t think I would have noticed, Jaime. What the hell?”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “You sound like father.”

“And you act like him.” 

There was a long, awkward pause. A waiter sidled up, clearly failing to read the mood, and Tyrion, in a fit of pique, ordered the most expensive wine they had. Jaime’s wallet could take it. 

After the waiter left, Jaime looked Tyrion dead in the eye and said, “that’s not fair to me.”

And he was right, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all. “I’m sorry.”

Jaime seemed to accept the apology, but none of the tension went out of his body. He was still as filled with worry, with stress, as he had been before.

“What’s on your mind Jaime, if not Cersei?”

Jaime made a noise, in the back of his throat. “Cersei is on my mind. Don’t give me that look, Tyrion, she didn’t do anything. I did something.”

Tyrion tried and failed to school his face back into passive indifference. “What, pray tell, did you do?” Preempting bad news, he took a long drink from his wine. 

“I’m getting married.”

Tyrion choked on his wine, and spat it out, all over the white table cloth and Jaime’s nice suit. 

“Funnily enough,” Jaime added, as he wiped the wine from his suit, “that was almost exactly what Cersei did when I told her. Then she threw her wine glass at me. I assume you don’t intend to throw any wine glasses at me?”

Tyrion tried to mop up the wine too. “I’m considering it, asshole. You scared me. I thought you were going to tell me that you needed me to cover up a murder or something.”

Given Cersei had accused Tyrion of murdering her son, that was probably not a good joke. Fuck. 

Fortunately, Jaime didn’t need to care. “You make the critical mistake of assuming this is actually better than murder.”

“Is your fiancée really that bad?”

Jaime frowned at Tyrion, but his eyes laughed. “I’ll have you know my fiancée is a wonderful woman. I meant Cersei. She’d much rather I had murdered someone.”

The exact nature of the relationship between Tyrion’s older siblings had always escaped him. They were freakishly, abnormally close, a thing that any amature psychologist could have pinned on the death of their mother. But as they had gotten older, Tyrion had watched their relationship warp and shift. Jaime wasn’t innocent in that- he had the same capacity for cruelty that Cersei and even Tyrion did, though he controlled it better than Cersei. It had become abusive- if it had not been before, and Tyrion had watched Cersei systematically develop methods to keep Jaime tied to her. He had never married, though Cersei had. He’d never dated, or had any real friends, or any meaningful relationship outside of his connection to Cersei. So suffice it to say, that Jaime had decided to get married, with anything less than Cersei’s absolute approval, was shocking. 

“And who, exactly, is this wonderful woman of yours?” 

Jaime blushed. Fascinating. Hilarious. “Um, her name is Brienne. Brienne Tarth.”

“Well, that tells me a great deal about her. Such as that she exists, and has a name. I now feel qualified to form many conclusions about the both of you.” 

Jaime laughed a little, as Tyrion had hoped he would. “Fuck off, Tyrion. And for the record, it took a lot less than a name for Cersei and father to start forming ‘many conclusions’.”

Tyrion wondered what they had said to Jaime, about this mysterious woman who seemed to have captured his heart. Given the things they had said and done over the years to Tyrion’s various girlfriends, it was probably something terrible. 

“So what’s she like? Tall, blonde and gorgeous, I assume.” Jaime had always had a type. 

Jaime snorted as though Tyrion had said something very funny. “Something like that. She used to be a marine.”

It was Tyrion’s turn to give a snort of laughter. Of course Jaime would pick a woman who could probably take him in a fight. Absolutely predictable. Entirely hilarious. 

“So, ex-marine- what does she do now?” Tyrion asked. 

Jaime looked down, and mumbled, “She’s running Senator Stark’s reelection campaign.”

Their father must have been furious to hear that. His and Cersei’s distaste for the Starks was legendary, though they had at least respected the Late Senator Stark (Eddard). But when his wife had taken his place, and taken a far more aggressive stance on several issues- trade, taxes, immigration- than her late husband ever had, the distaste had magnified tenfold. 

“Fantastic. Did father yell, or did he skip right to issuing orders?”

Jaime shook his head. “Orders and manipulation, of course. ‘You have a duty to this family, Jaime.’ ‘You must marry someone more suitable, Jaime.’ ‘What would your mother think, Jaime?’”

Tyrion winced at the last one. Of all their father’s many manipulation tactics, it was the one that had the most effect on his children. After all, none of them really had any idea what their mother would have thought about matters of any importance. Even Cersei, who often had lorded over Tyrion her closeness with their mother, had no real knowledge of the woman herself. 

“Fuck that.” Tyrion told him. “He gave me all those lines too, and I’m quite sure the only reason Cersei didn’t get them is that he arranged her marriage.”

“Fuck that,” Jaime agreed, and tapped their wine glasses together like it was a toast. 

“So, Brienne Tarth. Marine. Democrat. Anything else I should know? General traits? Fun facts?”

Jaime shrugged, evenly. “She’s fantastic. Tough as nails. Determined like it’s her middle name. As far as fun facts go, uhh, she’s really into MMA. She went to Junior Prom with Renly Baratheon.”

Tyrion couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?” Baratheon was gayer than a maypole. 

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes.” 

Jaime laughed too. “Well, I’m not lying. All of that’s true. And she really is tall and blonde. And absolutely gorgeous. But she says I look like a fourteenth-century frenchman.”

Tyrion snorted wine out his nose, and when Jaime had stopped laughing at him, the conversation meandered away from the topic of Brienne Tarth, over work and Tyrion’s own, sadly empty, love life, and back to Cersei. 

“So, how are things with Cersei?” Jaime gave Tyrion a sceptical look. “Stop that. Just because we don’t like each other doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Jaime shook his head hopelessly. “They’re shit. Complete and utter shit.”

“I see Bronn’s rubbed off on you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Yep, definitely too much Bronn,” Tyrion mused. “I should never have introduced you two.”

Jaime flipped him off, which was very Bronn of him. It was, however, subtle, which was not very Bronn of him. Then, he sobered abruptly. “Cersei is- I think this is the first time in my whole life that I’ve done something that she hated. Not just that she thought was stupid. That she hated. And- I don’t know what to do with that.”

Tyrion couldn’t begin to understand feeling so broken up over Cersei’s feelings about anything. 

“Do you think that this is the right thing to do?” Tyrion asked, in an attempt to be pragmatic. 

Jaime shrugged hopelessly. “I love Brienne, I think, but- fuck- I don’t know if I can do this without Cersei. What have I ever done without her?”

“Oh I don’t know, you’re only a general in the greatest fighting force in the world.” Jaime flipped him off again, which he probably deserved. Tyrion sombered. “Jaime- your achievements are more than just what Cersei made you.”

“Are they? Are they really?” Jaime demanded. “I joined the army because father made me. I am where I am now because in DC I could be close to Cersei.”

“Snap out of it, Jaime.” Tyrion commanded. “You’ve done something impressive, and a lesser person couldn’t have done it no matter how much he wanted to.”

They were interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone- not Tyrion’s, for once. Jaime picked up, and said immediately, “Wench.”

Tyrion stared at him, and watched as Jaime’s face transformed. His eyes lit up, and a smile appeared upon his lips. It was an uncomplicated emotion, just love, nothing less. Tyrion felt a sudden stab of jealousy. He had never love someone uncomplicatedly in his entire life. Or rather, he had once, and it had proved disastrous. Jaime spoke to Brienne for a couple minutes, answered the question she had called to ask, and then asked a couple of his own. In that whole time, his joy at her never seemed to falter. 

“You really love her, don’t you?” Tyrion asked, once Jaime had hung up. 

Jaime’s blissful smile made a resurgence, just at the thought of her. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to introduce us then, so I can form my own conclusions.”

Jaime smiled, and then seemed to consider what that would actually mean. “This isn’t going to be payback for years of my embarassing all your girlfriends, is it?”

Tyrion tried to give him an faux-innocent smile, but knew in his heart that he wouldn’t actually try to embarass Brienne. He held anyone who could cause Jaime to fight for himself, for the first time in his whole life, in far too high esteem to ever try and embarrass them.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me, point out my errors. Help me establish what everyone else is doing in this AU. If you like this, I wrote another Game of Thrones political story that you can also read on this account. It's longer and angstier.


End file.
